


The Butterfly Effect

by Marsaielda



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Original Character: Safire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsaielda/pseuds/Marsaielda
Summary: After a heafty storm an unknown woman is found in the waters near Berk, on the day before Hiccup's and Toothless' first meeting. How will this change the story? Why is Hiccup sick? And what does this have to do with his late mother?
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Original Female Character(s), Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless
Kudos: 5





	The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this work came to me when I was little and has been developed since. I wanted to see how my character, Safire, could change the story without having her take over from the already fantastic story that exist. (it is also where the idea of her originaltes, so I felt that I had to give her justice by showing where she started)  
> I hope I made a decent attempt  
> ps. I am not sure what rating this story should have so it might change later on.

The trees stretch towards the skies, their leaves making the sun’s beams cover the forest in a bath of green light, it’s quiet except for the rustling of leaves and the light footfalls of a small boy. 

Fifteen year old, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third, walks through the forest like he’s done a million times. When you live on an island and it feels like no one likes you it’s natural to seek a quiet place away from all the hurtful comments that nobody except you yourself seem to hear. 

But today he’s not here because he wants to get away from the village although that is just a bonus. Yesterday a storm fell over Berk, his home, and blew whole roofs into the forest next to the village, it did almost as much damage as the dragon raids and that’s saying a lot. Wanting to be helpful even though he won’t get any acknowledgement for it, Hiccup walks through the forest that he knows like the back of his hand and marks on a map where the debris has fallen so those that can lift it will be able to find it before nightfall.

He walks past a big log with a carved dragon head at the top, it hangs out of a tree, braking the ceiling of green and letting in the sun’s clear gaze. The brown haired boy turns towards the hole in the forest’s ceiling, It’s a little after noon from the sun’s position, an almost inaudible rumble echoes through the quiet forest originating from the boy and Hiccup sighs while putting his book away before making his way back to the village. 

The forest is never quite this peaceful, there’s always something around to disturb it. Birds building their nests, Terrors he has to avoid or the wind blowing through the leaves and making the whole island feel more alive. 

The ground crunches under his feet, the first fallen leaves blending into the dirt below. Yesterday’s rain making him avoid the more marshlike areas and taking the fastest way back instead of the preferred longer route. 

Hiccup sighs through his nose when the village gets back into view but the peace is exchanged for confusion when he gets closer. Many are running around like a Gronckle is after them and those who aren’t either tries to fix the damage from the storm or looks just as confused as Hiccup. 

A few paces away, in front of one of the houses that are in the process of being rebuilt, a woman with classic Viking gear finally gets a hold of one of the panicking Vikings, “what is going on, why are everyone running?” She demands.

“They found a woman in the water, close to the docks, they’re trying to get to her before the sea does,” the man explains before hurrying away again towards the great hall, presumably to get the chief. 

Hiccup however runs in the other direction, towards the docks, he might not be able to help but he can’t deny his curiosity. Taking the less populated streets between the half fixed houses gets him to the docks in a fairly short amount of time. The dock is full of fully grown Vikings, both men and women, and Hiccup, being shorter than them, can’t see a thing. But being small has its advantages, squeezing his way through the crowd he sees what is going on. 

On the deck decimetres away from the freezing water lays a woman. Her hair is shoulder length and the same shade of brown as his own, her face peaceful and very pale despite her sun kissed skin. Her lips are blue from the cold water, a firm but feminine jaw moves with every shuddering breath she takes and a long now pale neck disappears underneath the clasp of a black cloak that lays beneath her like a wet velvet bed. The clothes she wears are foreign, cementing the thought that she is not from any of the neighbouring villages. 

Her physique can only be described as slink but nothing like Astrid who is built for combat in a way that the unconscious woman before him is not. Her shoulders are far enough apart that it fits her long neck but close enough that her forearms would knock into her hips when walking. Her bust is on the smaller side but big enough that there’s no question that she is, indeed, a she. All in all she doesn’t look that much older than him.

The sea of people behind him parts and a staff is used to lightly push him to the side so Gothi, Berk’s elder and healer, can reach he woman. She takes one look before snapping her fingers pointing at the woman and then her hut before making her way back. The Viking, that probably fished her out of the water, picks her up and walks after Gothi. Leaving the rest to either follow after the shipwrecked girl or go back to work. 

In the end most choose to follow and Gothi is forced to shoo them out the door to be able to work. During the next hour while most are going back to what they were doing before this all started, Hiccup is still sitting outside Gothi’s hut. He knows he won’t be able to do anything productive until he at least knows that she’s going to be okay. His heart has always been too big for his own good. 

Not long after the last Viking leaves, Gothi opens her door ajar to beckon him inside. It’s not the first time he has been sitting outside her door waiting until everyone has left so he can help out. Besides Gobber and his father she is the only other adult that notices him in the village. 

It is warm inside her hut, unnaturally so, and the culprit is the blazing fireplace that is trying to warm the frozen woman and dry her dripping clothes that are hanging before the fire. 

The brown haired woman is laying in one of Gothi’s sickbeds and is covered by multiple boar skins. She is already looking healthier and her lips has lost their blue tint. Gothi holds a mortar to his chest and he steps back into their familiar routine. 

He isn’t of much help in the village because of how scrawny he is. A few years ago Hiccup’s father forced him on the village’s black smith, Gobber, as an apprentice in an attempt to make him gain some muscles. It obviously didn’t work and any attempt at lifting something to heavy just made him light headed and feel like he was going to throw up. Thankfully Gobber kept him away from the too heavy equipment after a mishap with the sharpening stone and a pair of broken tweezers. He and Gobber ended up having to carry enough water filled buckets to make him lightheaded and they still couldn’t get rid of the acidic smell of vomit. A small smile creeps onto his face as he loses himself in the memory, it’s one of his better ones.

Hiccup comes back to reality when the sun reaches his eyes through one of the windows, pulling him from his thoughts, dinner should have started in the great hall, he looks down at all the now crushed herbs Gothi’s been giving him and wonders when exactly he went from crushing herbs to cutting carrots and slicing meat. He turns around to see Gothi standing before the fire and stirring the pot and the woman from before looks like she could wake up at any time now. 

Hiccup carries the last of the carrots to Gothi who puts them in the pot before looking at him and jerks her eyes towards the girl and goes to fetch the tableware. He clears his throat while making his way over to her knowing that he’ll sound like a chicken otherwise and wanting to make a better first impression than that. 

He shakes her shoulder gently, “hello, em... it’s time to wake up?” When she doesn’t move he shakes her a bit more roughly. Her hair falls into her eyes and a yawn escapes her when she stretches and tries to sit up, but Hiccup gently keeps her down with the hand on her shoulder. Knowing that her clothes are still hanging in front of the fire. The woman panics at being held down and instinctively grabs for his wrist and when her eyes fly open and her sky blue meet his forest green she jumps at his proximity, “it’s okay, you’re safe,” he soothes her while trying to pry her death grip from his arm without success. 

She looks around the room with big scared eyes before landing back on him, “where am I?” Her voice is raspy but still carries an authority he wasn’t expecting. 

“On Berk, in our healer’s hut, the others found you in the water.” He begins in a comforting voice, one that his cousin would surely make fun of him for, but stops when her eyes drifts, probably back to what just happened. “What’s your name?” He hurriedly asks as an excuse to change the subject but when she looks back at him half confused his face heats up and he begins to ramble, “I mean you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, it was a stupid question, jus-just forget it. Sorry I asked.”

Laughter bubbled through the air as she released his hand in favour of trying to hold back her giggles, “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you and your question is not dumb, it’s expected that you want to know who I am since I’m a stranger,” she says after she’s gotten herself under control and grips one of the boar pelts covering her so she can sit up without flashing him. “Could I trouble you with getting me some water?”

“Of-of course.” Hiccup stutters but before he can even take a step Gothi is there and holds a cup to her face.

“Oh, thank you,” she rasps gratefully.

“Eh, that’s not,” Hiccup begins when she takes a large gulp, knowing full well that Gothi’s remedies don’t taste very good.

Her eyes widen when the taste hits her but instead of spitting it out, she hastily finishes the cup as quickly as possible before speaking, “dragon blossom, newly cut and yellow flower-grass which has grown past its ripe season. Soothing for the throat and native to the north.” She says at Gothi’s surprised and curious look before clarifying, “my mother studied plant life, she left everything she knew to me.” The shipwrecked woman proudly explains. 

Gothi shakes her head in amusement before fetching the food and the woman’s shirt. She pulls it on while Hiccup gets another stool for himself. So far every time he has entered Gothi’s hut he has ended up eating at least one meal with the woman. Not that he is complaining it is usually easier to stomach than what is served at the great hall. 

When he gets back the woman has just finished her second bowl and Gothi has a sceptic look like she’s waiting for her to throw it all up again, it wouldn’t be the first time. “‘You okay?” He asks while sitting down on the opposite side of the girl, accepting his own bowl from Gothi.

“Better and better, but I don’t understand, are you short on food? Because she refuses to give me any more.” The woman sends a death glare at Gothi but the quirk of her lips reveals that she isn't actually angry, which makes him smile at the light atmosphere.

“We just found you a couple hours ago, there is no way to know how long you were out and we don’t want to risk you throwing up because you ate too much.” He says with a nervous laugh when she switches her “angry” glare towards him.

“Fine, fine, but I'm not starved” she sighs and Gothi removes the bowl she is holding before leaving them alone in the hut, probably to tell the chief that she’s awake. 

“Soo,” He begins to break the quiet before it becomes awkward, “I’m Hi-Hiccup and that was Gothi, our healer, she doesn’t talk,” Hiccup stutters and gestures to the door which Gothi left through moments earlier. “And since you said is wasn’t a dumb question, what is your name?”

She open her mouth to speak but no words comes out, she hesitates, before opening her mouth again, “call me Safire.”

“Like the rock?” Hiccup blurts before he has a chance to think and slams a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. 

She looks at him for a second before dissolving into peals of laughter, he looks at her in something akin to wonder still with his hand slammed over his mouth, but she can see him subconsciously tensing and waiting for her laughter to turn towards him. The giggles subside at the thought and she goes to dispel his fear, “I am sorry, it is not you that I’m laughing at. But to answer your question, yes, like the rock but it’s spelled differently. You’ll have to remind me to write it down sometime.”

He looks at her thoughtfully before his face lights up and he grabs a book from inside his coat, “here,” he says and pushes the book into her lap, “you can wright it in my notebook if you like.”

“Thank you, Hiccup,” Safire says while looking him in the eye before opening the book to the last page, turning it upside down and then writing her name at the top of the page. He takes a closer look at the squiggly symbols on the paper and the furrowing of his eyebrows reveals his confusion, she looks at him for a second before it dawns on her and Safire writes her name in Nordic runes under the cursive letters. “Sorry, wrong language.”

Hiccup pulls his eyes off the page and jumps when he realises how close he has gotten to her face, “Don-don’t worry about it,” he stutters while retrieving his notebook and taking a better look at her name. The spelling doesn’t make much sense and if he were to read it out loud without having heard her say it his pronunciation would be way of. “It is... unique.”

His confusion draws another laugh from her and it looks like she’s going to speak before she snaps her mouth shut, making her teeth click, and turns her attention to the door. She goes rigid and her gaze locks onto the door, her eyes questioning, he has a few seconds to wonder why before the sound of familiar footsteps reaches his ears and the door flies open. 

In walks a man with red hair and a matching big red beard. He ducks through the door and when his eyes land on Safire he stalks towards her – and him, because of his place next to her – with determined steps. A small part in the back of his mind wants to walk around the bed and stand between the oncoming titan and her, he squishes that thought under the certainty that the chief could pick him up like a toothpick, but a much larger part is glad that she is between him and the Viking in front of them, and from the slight tilt in her shoulders as she turns a bit more towards the man, and almost hides him in her shadow, he is not the only one that thinks so. 

* * *

Safire straitens her posture on instinct as the man approaching her screams of authority, is he the leader? The red haired man has a metal helmet decorated with two horns – a Viking helmet, her mind supplies – and blue eyes just a few shades lighter than her own. 

“Gothi said you were awake,” the man says in a heavy dialect that matches his stature as he comes to stand next to her bed, he is towering over her at this angle. His voice is gruff and full of authority, a man that doesn’t like cowering and won’t respect anyone he deems to be easy prey. She stretches her back a bit more, using her years of formal etiquette to her advantage, feeling her centre of gravity change and almost falling over from the lack of stability, she manages to not sway and locks eyes with the man before her. 

A testing gaze meets her own calm eyes, “I am, are you here to question me?” Safire asks, keeping her voice as neutral as possible while trying to not appear disrespectful. 

It seems to have worked, if the man’s satisfied grin is any indication, “yes, I’m Stoick the Vast, the chief of the Hairy Ho-. Hiccup! What are you doing here?” Stoick cuts himself of, looking over her shoulder towards the boy who, unsuccessfully, tried to move completely out of his sight. 

“I-I was just-,” Hiccup began clearly uncomfortable with the attention. 

“Hiccup woke me, Stoick the Vast.” Safire interrupts him pulling the man’s attention back onto her before defusing the situation with a small smile, “he’s good company.”

“Of course, of course, Hiccup return to Gobber at the forge,” Stoick says dismissively without even looking at him, while taking Gothi’s old seat. The boy doesn’t know if he wants to flee the room or hide in a corner and listen. A few seconds later Hiccup is at the door and a last glance to Safire and her reassuring eyes makes him shut the door behind him. “I have questions you have answers, firstly who are you?”

She hears Hiccup’s light footsteps as he walks away from the house where she’s now alone with Stoick, “Safire, born in the south and the daughter of a merchant.” She replies swiftly while also answering his unspoken question about her parentage. She has dealt with enough men like him to know that his bluntness doesn’t necessarily equal rudeness.

He gives an affirmative grunt, “are you a bastard?”

Rough seas invade her thoughts and she identifies the memory from the water-dragon made storm last night. “Oh no, my parents were married,” her voice loses its strength towards the end and she turns away from Stoick. She was born on the ocean and her father brought her with him on more than enough of his travels saying that she was his lucky charm. When she turned seven she made them cry for the first time, and the last. 

His features loosen as he tilts his head to the side to catch her eyes, “were?” He asks, and Safire almost doesn’t catch the small bit of sympathy in it. 

She takes a snivelling breath to steady herself again before looking back at Stoick, her eyes are a bit too red and she needs another breath to steady her voice, “they died a few years ago,” she supplies while focusing on levelling out her breathing. 

His face morphs even more by the shared sorrow and he looks almost reluctant to ask his next question but his face hardens to something akin to determination, “did they fall in battle?”

Safire looks at him in bewilderment and opens her mouth to speak but stops herself at the last second from saying ‘that depends fully on your perspective of the situation, their deaths were honourable yes, but it was not a fight it was a decimation. In less words, they were trounced.’ There might be words in that statement that he doesn’t know and, without certainty, it is better to take a clearer option. “Yes, they didn’t stand a chance against their foe.”

Stoick gives a sympathetic nod before trying to lift her spirit, “then there’s no reason for you to be sad for them, they wouldn’t want to see you like this from their seats in Valhalla.” He smiles while squeezing her hand a bit too hard for her liking but he doesn’t seem to realise and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him. 

Valhalla, _‘hall of the slain’_ , where half of those that die in combat travel after death, the other half-, “or from Freya’s Fólkvangr.” Safire finishes her thought out loud, a smile creeping onto her face.

The surprise is plastered all over his face for a second before a warm happiness overtakes his features. It must not be often that they meet a southerner who knows about their gods. Even if it is just the basics. “Yes, of course,” he begins while pulling back his hand, “wherever they are I’m sure they’d want to see you at your strongest.” He stands from his seat and she swears she can hear his back pop. “There won’t be any more merchants before the ice comes and I won’t send you out at sea alone, I’ll give you refuge in my village until spring.” He finishes and quirks his head in goodbye before turning to leave.

“Stoick,” her voice is hesitant and he stops with his hand on the door, “thank you.” She finishes and the overwhelming gratefulness that her words carry could bring a weak man to his knees, Stoick simply nods in reply before leaving her alone in the hut. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding before laying back down stretching out her back, sitting just gets more and more uncomfortable with every year but it’s better than the alternative. Safire reaches a hand around to her shoulder and lays her palm flat where her shoulder blade should be, she feels how her back moves underneath her fingers in sync with her every breath, how the skin stretches to reveal all the sore places where she will definitely have bruises later. 

Looking at the sun disappearing over the horizon is a calming sight and her bed is positioned perfectly to see it. With that image in mind she lays flat on her back and lets the void of sleep consume her. 

* * *

The next time she wakes it is to someone’s yelling. Gothi’s back again and she’s using what looks like a long walking cane to hit a new person on the head every time he tries to talk. The stranger has frizzy dark brown hair held down by a Viking helmet and a big shin. Not the most nice looking boy, he looks no more than fourteen, but Safire doesn’t think he – or any other Viking for that matter – would take “nice looking” as a compliment so it doesn’t matter anyway.

“Stop hitting me!” He yells while trying to protect his head. 

Safire rises herself up on her elbows to get a better view of what’s going on, the tumult is happening in front of the fireplace and the kettle has been taken off the fire and from the guilty soup stains on the boy’s face it’s clear what happened. Safire fakes an amused giggle which gets the attention of the two Vikings in the room. The boy hastily licks as much soup from his face as he can, but misses most of it. Gothi hits him on the head one last time before going over to Safire to help her sit up. She stops the old woman with a hand gesture and sits up herself, glad that she is still wearing her shirt from before. 

Bringing her attention back to the boy across the room, who is busy cleaning his face with the back of his hand, Safire smiles, “Did you eat all her soup Mr. Viking?” Safire’s voice is friendly and slightly teasing. The gobsmacked look on the young Viking’s face makes her give another giggle just to see his reaction. 

“Wha-whe? Wa?” He babbles clearly unable to centre his thoughts. 

It’s common for her to get that reaction to her voice when she tries to sound appealing and the men’s reactions never disappoint. “What’s your name?” She asks slightly less flirty and instead letting her voice take on its natural warm undertones. 

The boy, having composed himself, poses to show off his arms, “Snotlout Jorgenson, the strongest and most handsome Viking in the Archipelago, at your service,” he says and winks at her. 

Safire being exposed to his awful attempt at flirting bites back a snort of laughter and instead puts on her best act of shy new girl. She averts her eyes from him instead turning her head towards the floor beside her bed before brushing her brown hair behind her ear and looking up at him through her lashes. Safire hears a sharp intake of breath that matches the rise of Snotlout’s chest, she bites her lip to hold back a smile. This boy is hilarious! She faces him again still with her chin pointing slightly downwards so her flirting doesn’t lose its charm, “it’s nice to meet you, strongest Viking of the Archipelago, I’m Safire the shipwrecked damsel.”

She has to bite back another smile when he furrows his eyebrows in confusion seemingly unable to tell if she is genuinely giving him a compliment or making fun of him. He visibly shakes himself out of his thoughts before taking a few steps closer to her, “Safire, what a, eh, beautiful and exotic name, something only a beauty like yourself could be named. I can show you the best spots on Berk, so stick with me,” Snotlout says while slinging an arm around her shoulders and pointing to himself. Before going into detail about how good he is, what you can do on Berk all the while throwing is some basic and terrible compliments.

In the meantime Safire is fighting with her instinct to lean away from him because of the smell, when was the last time he bathed? “Gothi,” Safire addresses the old woman and Snotlout cuts himself of mid-sentence. “Is Snotlout allowed to show me around the village today or do you want to hold me here for longer?” 

The old woman looks at her for a moment with something akin to disbelief at her question before walking over to take down the rest of her clothes from where they have been drying in front of the fire. 

Safire turns to address Snotlout, who’s still too close for her liking, “will you wait outside while I get dressed?”

He looks between her and the clothes that Gothi lays on the bed before his face turns red and he stammers in the affirmative before leaving the room with haste. Safire shares a look with Gothi who casts her a sly look while smiling at the spectacle before leaving the room to let her get changed. Not that Safire would care since the heavy bruising on her back is already covered.

She pulls on her undergarments and pants while also hiking up her shirt to bind her chest which pulls on the bruises on her back and is in general just a big pain to deal with. Her shirt is a loose fitting tunic that reaches a third down her thigh and is an out washed dim blue. It also covers and fits her shoulders to past her elbow like a glove showing that the bagginess is a style choice and not because the shirt is two sizes too big. Underneath she has a pair of formfitting black pants of a stretchy fabric that her father got her during one of his travels. 

The shoes she had on the boat was not a very comfy pair and she distinctly remembers how she lost her left one to the water currents after the waves claimed her boat. Instead the Vikings have given her a new pair of boots that seem to be hastily made and lined with sheep fur on the inside.

Standing up from the bed gives her a slight dizzy spell that passes after half a second. She yells a hasty goodbye to Gothi, and receives a knock on the wall in response, Safire opens the door to the old woman’s hut and is greeted with her new home for the coming months.

The village isn’t large but it doesn’t appear small either. There are few enough houses that it doesn’t seem too difficult to learn everyone’s names if she had the time to get to know them but there’s definitely more than 70 people in the village. 

Snotlout gives her a small tour of the village showing of his favourite places to train like they are the centre of the world and dismissing the forest, bakery and other places that she would also find interesting. 

Making the best of the situation she asks about his life and generally tries to get him to open up and become comfortable in her presence, if one person in this village is even half as good at fighting as Snotlout makes himself out to be they might be able to help her.

He is showing her a hole-in-the-wall seating area when the other Vikings begin making their way from the half-moon seating area made of stone benches, each covered with at least one pelt to make them more comfortable and to keep away the cold. 

“Where are everyone going?” Safire asks while Snotlout stands up to follow. 

“To get lunch. Did you know that I have a set of handmade drums? I’m great at them,” he answers absentmindedly, before changing the subject back to himself again. 

“I don’t doubt it. But _where_ does everyone eat?” She stresses just as they reach a circular building full of Vikings, happily devouring their food like it will be their last meal, while toasting with an intensity that results in most, if not all, of their mead ending up in their food rather than in their tankards. 

“Here,” he answers, not seeming to understand the actual question, while leading her towards a table with two boys and two girls, all his age. “Safire this is Astrid, the twins and Fishlegs. Everyone this is Safire.” He introduces her while throwing an arm over her shoulders which he uses to pull her into the seat beside him. 

“Hi,” her voice comes out meek, the judging look from Astrid and the slight maniac expressions on the twins faces making her want to crawl into herself. Looking over at... Fish?... legs? She is meet by blue eyes full of sympathy. 

Her eyes catches sight of a tuft of hair behind the blond boy, in a corner of the room is Hiccup. His scrawny stature sticking out like a sore thumb when compared to the bulky Vikings in the hall. The contrast makes him seem sickly thin and the picture is only strengthened by him seemingly ignoring his food. Wonder what’s on his mind?

“So, Astrid, did you get the shield?” Snotlout asks, pulling Safire’s thoughts back to their table. 

The blond girl sighs, “Yes, I flung it of a cliff.” She answers with a deadpan stare.

“But, but I painted it all by myself for you,” he pleads but not overly hurt by her expected dismissal. 

“And I’ve already told you that I don’t appreciate all these gifts.” She says, a twitch in her eyebrow the only indication of her hidden temper. Safire doesn’t notice that her gaze has wandered back to Hiccup until she registers him peeling of a strip of chicken, just to... not eat it.

No wonder he is so thin, if he refuses to eat. Making her decision she stands up from the table, in the middle of the male twin’s ramble about yaks, drawing the attention of the others around her, “I’m going to go take a portion of food,” she says and slinks away into the crowd towards the big fire in the centre. 

Steeling a plate from one of the abandoned tables she throws the gnawed chicken bone into the fire before taking a fish from one of the barrels as to not look weird walking around with an empty plate. Trying to see over the sea of people, which is quite impossible with her stature, she decides to simply step up onto one of the tables to locate Hiccup. 

Searching the corners she finds his empty table without trouble and makes her way over to him. The sea of Vikings thins the farther she gets from the fire and when she reaches his table it almost feels secluded. Like someone has pushed it backwards, out of alinement with the others. Taking a deep breath, more for show than anything else, she takes the seat directly in front of him. “Hey,” her voice is gentle, quiet, almost like a whisper.

But it gets his attention, he blinks a few times as the world goes back into focus again. “Hey, Safire, weren’t you hanging out with Snotlout?” He questions, the tiredness he feels all the way into his bones reducing now that he has something to focus on. 

“I was, but I think the awkwardness got to me,” she says, scrunching her nose, before turning towards him with a small smile, “and you looked lonely.”

He just looks at her for a moment before the piece of chicken that he’s holding slips out of his grip and landing in his drink with a small splash. Why does that always happen, “ugh,” he groans while fishing the chicken out of his drink. 

Safire’s smile grows soft, and it has a fondness to it that speaks of past memories, “May I?” She asks while pointing at his almost untouched plate. He gives a small nod and looks at her questioning when she pulls his plate towards her and begins picking apart his chicken with her fingers. “M... my mother... she used to make this all the time, for the young ones,” she says, lovingly.

Longing grows in his chest at the thought of having a mother cut his food into small pieces, he’s watching the rhythmic movement of her hands as she picks the last chicken from the bone. His plate is now filled with small strips of chicken making his mouth water at the sight. The feeling brings him back to reality and he slumps slightly in his seat. “You don’t have to bother, it won’t stay down anyways.”

She frowns, looking up at him with questioning eyes, “why not?”

He shouldn’t have said that, he doesn’t want to tell her, she will just think it’s nothing and force him to eat like all the others. “Em, it-,” he begins before she interrupts him with a deadpan look and a raised eyebrow.

“I can see on your expression that you don’t want to answer, so don’t worry about it Hiccup, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with sharing, that’s how friendship works after all,” she finishes with a smile as she pushes his plate back towards him before picking up the fish from her own plate, to begin dismantle that as well.

“Friends?” the breaths, lost for words at her reaction. She- the first time he told his father about his bad periods, when he didn’t want to eat any dinner, he was not allowed to leave the table until he had finished every scrap on his plate. He was at the pier when Tuffnut and Snotlout found out, they forced him into a headlock and shoved an uncooked fish into his mouth, telling him that they wouldn’t let him go until he ate it. She wouldn’t even let him tell her, because she knew he didn’t want to.

Putting down the fish skin on her own plate she pops one of the pieces into her mouth. Looking down at his own plate of shredded chicken he hears his stomach grumble and with shaking fingers he picks up a few strips and sucks on them. 

The chicken is bland and dry but it still feels heavenly to get some food onto his tongue and there are a few moments of bliss before the first signs of another stomach ache starts. He can feel it, just behind his stomach, how the muscle fibres go tense one after the other, it is a slow process and easy to gloss over at first but after years of dealing with said stomach Hiccup’s learned to identify the signs out of necessity.

“Safire!” The yell brings him out of his own thoughts and they both look over to see who shouted. Snotlout is standing on the bench and looks at them with a questioning expression. 

Safire turns back to him with sad eyes, “I have to go,” she says, and he understands perfectly, even though she has only been here a day it is already clear that Hiccup is an outsider and being close to him will only make them bully her to. 

“Of course, go. Don’t let me stop you,” he says, not sure if he can keep the relief at the others still accepting her out of his voice. 

She gives him one last look before taking her plate and going back to the other table. 

“Why were you with useless?” Snotlout asked when she reclaimed the seat beside him.

“Useless?” She asks, bewildered.

“He means Hiccup,” Fishlegs says helpfully between bites. And she nods in thanks.

“He seems friendly, and he was the first one I saw when I woke up after the storm,” she says and eats another piece of her fish.

“He’s a taking fishbone and a liar. Faking food poisoning just to get more attention, like his “clumsiness” isn’t enough of a bother,” Snotlout hisses.

The twins perk up at Snotlout’s behaviour and the female buts in, “ya, that got old real quick.” 

Followed by her brother, “ya, real quick.”

“That’s what I said!” The first one yells again.

“I’m using it get your own.”

Astrid slams her mug onto the table getting the other’s attention, “stop fighting.” She says, her iron gaze sweeping over the occupants at the table, intimidating them into compliance. 

“So, I never did get your names?” Safire says to the twins, breaking the atmosphere around the table. 

“I’m Tuffnut and this is my idiot sister Ruffnut,” Tuffnut answers.

“Hey! Who are you calling an idiot, idiot!” Ruffnut retorts, and pulls on one of the horns on his helmet, turning their squabble into a full on tug war. Getting the feeling that this is the norm for them, Safire takes another piece of her fish instead. 

“Are you eating your fish raw?” Is the blurted question from Fishlegs. 

“Oh, oh, I ate a fish raw once. I sat on the toilet for a week,” Tuffnut buts in while pulling at his sister’s braids.

“You did not!” Ruffnut exclaims, continuing their roughhousing.

Safire looks back at Fishlegs and answers his question with a shrugs. “Somewhere, raw fish is a delicacy,” she states while putting another piece into her mouth as if to prove a point, letting the conversation trail of around her.

* * *

A few hours later finds Hiccup deep in the forest, emptying his stomach into a bush. There’s a sickly sheen to his skin and his breathing is irregular because of the pain. With great effort, Hiccup lays down on the ground just focusing on his breathing. 

The pain usually disappears soon after he has expelled what little he eats, and laying still on a flat surface helps when it inevitably spikes before subsiding. He closes his eyes, just listening to the forest as to take focus away from his own insides. Careful about not thinking too much since it can reawaken the nausea, Hiccup stays there on the forest floor for close to half an hour before he dares to try and move. 

When wiggling his toes and moving his arms doesn’t aggravate his stomach he knows that it’s over, for now. He has had these episodes where he has been unable to eat since his fifth summer and they’ve only gotten more frequent with time. 

When it started it was just an ache, then when he was 7 he began throwing up. Over time he learned that the best way to avoid the taste of bile was to simply not eat when he had one of his bad periods. It worked out well, to a start, when it only happened once or twice a month. By now the good times are being outweighed by the bad and it’s only escalating. 

Getting up from the moss covered stone, Hiccup makes his way out of the denser parts of the forest to wash his mouth in a nearby creek. The water is cold, chilling against his teeth and he spits it out before he accidentally swallows any of it. The clear water is stained red and Hiccup can feel the sore skin next to one of his teeth. The taste of blood, the pain, the complete feeling of wrongness, he stopped fearing it about a year ago, when he accepted its inevitability. 

Standing up from the creek he looks around him, he’s not too far from the village a few steps south and he will be able to see the cliff with the uprooted tree. Walking towards the forest edge he sees it. Hiccup hasn’t been here in what feels like forever.

The cliff is not too high, he has seen Ruffnut and Tuffnut push each other off much higher cliffs – on the other side of Berk – and right on the edge, hanging out over the water, is a fallen tree. It was blown down years before he was born and has since then accommodated for its new lying position gaining stronger roots that run all over the rock like vines or rope. 

Absentmindedly Hiccup takes a few steps out on the trunk, taking hold and swinging his body around one of the thicker branches blocking his way before sitting down on a forked branch suspended clean over the sea, even though he hasn’t been here in years the routine is familiar. 

If the twins were here they would make it a contest of who would dare to go the farthest out on the tree, but neither would jump. Glancing down at the water he sees the unforgiving waves and the sharp rocks, they are covering whole stretches of the south shore, the rocks may not reach very far out but if the currents catch you they will still pull you under at best and push you towards the sharp stones at worst. Either way, the chance of surviving a fall from the cliff is small. 

The wind on this side of the island is hard and unforgiving, but it’s never impeded his senses, the clean smell of seawater and wind dulls the rest of the world and the horizon is a clean cut line splitting the world into two shades of blue while the whistling wind seems to almost whisper in his ear. 

Hooking his knees around the forked branch Hiccup lets go of the tree to get his notebook from inside his vest. He has been drawing the world around him since he began escaping into the forest, no one will look for him they never do. 

Once he got stuck in one of the hunters’ traps, a snare made to catch dear. He ended up on his back, the foot caught elevated over his head. His father was on another expedition trying to find the dragon nest, so he spent the night there, it wasn’t until the next day that the hunter found him and yelled at him for being careless enough to spring the trap. He forced Hiccup to help him for the rest of the day, he still retains the knowledge about how to set traps from the experience, even though he broke as many as he set. 

As the day goes on the drawing takes shape and when the sun begins to set he draws that to. It isn’t until he hears wingbeats to his right and looks over that he realises how late it is. He has always had good eyes so it’s no surprise to him that he didn’t realise that the sun had set but it’s the sound of wings and silhouette of a flock of different dragons that makes him realise just how long he has been sitting there in the darkness. 

Slamming his book shut Hiccup stands up to make his way back to solid ground, the walk along the tree trunk is no more difficult now than in daylight. But the adrenaline and the subsequent blood pumping through his ears makes him lose his footing just as he reaches the cliff making him bang his elbow on the ground. His slip doesn’t slow him down much though and before he knows it he is flying through the forest and the village comes into view. 

It’s utter chaos. Everyone is fighting, some houses are on fire, one Viking is wrestling a fishing net form a Nadder, while another tries to behead a Terrible terror. Taking a deep, steadying, breath Hiccup runs through the crowd dodging all the fighting, trying to make his way towards the forge. 

“Glad you could join us,” is the first thing he hears as he reaches his destination. “I thought you’d been carried off.” Gobber says from within the forge when Hiccup puts on his apron.

He gets to work heating up the bent weapons so he can hammer them back into shape. “Who, me? Nah, come on! I’m too muscular for their taste, what would they do with all of this?” He jokes while striking a pose showing of his non-existent muscles. 

“They need toothpicks too, don’t they?” Gobber shoots back before lightly throwing a sword to him, “sword, sharpen, now.”

Doing as he is told, Hiccup staggers to the round stone wheel used to sharpen weapons. Excitement shoots through him and he has to force away a giddy smile, ever since he finished his bola launcher he has been waiting to try it out on something other than trees – the force of the bola had a tenancy splinter the bark and started a rumour about Terrible terrors eating said bark – and the unfortunate sheep, that one was one of his more gory mistakes. 

Shuddering at the reminder of being covered in sheep insides. Hiccup gives the newly sharpened sword to Gobber before picking up an axe and beginning to hammer it into shape. 

A familiar whistling sound comes from the night sky followed by the frightened screaming of, “Night fury!” Abandoning what he’s doing Hiccup hurries to the front of the forge just as the Night fury fires his shot and a catapult explodes in cloud of blue and orange fire.

“Man the fort, Hiccup, they need me out there,” Gobber says while switching the hammer attachment for a mace specifically made to fit the indent in his prosthetic left arm. “Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean.” He finishes before he runs to join the fight with a battle roar.

Hiccup just looks at the now empty doorway for a second before he shoots into action, running to the back of the shop he uncovers the bola launcher and rushes it out of the forge and through the village. Tonight he will be the first to kill a Night fury.

* * *

_No!_ Is the first thought that runs through Safire’s mind when the roars wake her. After lunch she spent the afternoon with Astrid before retiring early to Gothi’s hut under the guise of still being tired from the storm. It was a perfect excuse for some peace and quiet, which is probably why she actually fell asleep. 

Now her eyes are wide and her ears filled with the sound of dragons fighting. Her breathing is ragged as she desperately tries to get a hold on her panic. Her fingers scratch along the bed frame and she has to stop the impulse to claw at her own skin. 

Her skin pulls at the bruising on her back and her fear spikes, she can’t stay here, she has to get away. The fear fuels her as she flies out of bed and out the door. Just to be stopped in her tracks by the sight before her. 

The village is on fire, there are dragons both in the air and on the island and Vikings are running around everywhere. Another instinctual jerk goes through her back slamming into the binding around her chest marking her stumble in the process. The action brings her back to reality and the fear sets in anew. She needs to get away. 

Less than a second after the thought Safire takes off running. The paths are full of people and dragons making her lose her footing continuously as she frantically avoids the fighting. A warning screech echoes from behind her and she dives to the side just in time to avoid a pair of Nadder claws. 

She can feel the skin on her back pull and capillaries break and futilely wraps her arms around her body in an attempt to keep herself together. She needs something to bind it. Getting up from the ground she rushes towards the first house that isn’t burning. 

The inside walls are covered in weapons, metal and leather. She’s found the forge. The fire is still going strong but the building is empty and innocently hanging on the far wall is a pair of belts. Stumbling across the room uselessly trying to hold herself together, Safire collapses on the stone floor with a few belts in hand. 

Immediately she wraps one of the belts across her ribs just under her breasts and pulls, hard. She can feel how the slams pull at the belt instead of the skin with every beat of her heart, she fastens it before picking up another to wrap around her abdomen and a third just below her collarbone and underneath her arms. 

The pressure makes it hard to breath and the belts dig into her bruised back but they hold and she’s ready to cry from all the emotions running through her. The edge of her fear wane and the world around her comes into sharp focus letting all the painful screeching and yelling reach her ears.

The pain she hears is excruciating and she just wants to go out there and stop the fighting but she knows she can’t and that knowledge is worse than anything she has experienced. A pained cry echoes from the sky and she can’t help but cry back. 

* * *

He hit it! He hit a night fury. 

Hiccup barely saw the outline against the night sky, but because of the light from the stars he was able to see enough of a shadow to hit it. Following the falling dragon with his eyes the whole battle seems to stop for a moment as the night fury screeches into the night, followed by a cry of agony from the village. 

He doesn’t know why he reacts so strongly to the cry, he has heard the dying screeches of many Vikings in the past, but before he really registers it he is making his way down from the cliff he was on and towards somewhere in the middle of town. 

The streets are full of fighting and it takes a minute for him to reach the plaza. He doesn’t even know where he’s supposed to look for whoever is in danger. Catching his breath for just a moment and trying to fight of the black spots covering his vision, he hears a crash from inside the forge. 

Inside he finds the forge in disarray, there are weapons littering the floor, a table that’s fallen on its side and the basket in the corner with iron nails is instead littering the floor. But beyond all that trying to hide in the corner furthest from the door is Safire, she looks broken and haunted with her hair in disarray, like she’s futilely been trying to not pull at it, tears streaming down her cheeks and blood on her shin from having bit her lower lip raw.

“S-Safire, what happened here? Are you okay?” He asks trying to navigate his way through the nails.

The sound of his voice breaks through her downward spiral and she clings to it like a dying animal, uncurling herself slightly so she can look at him not realising the desperation that shines through her eyes. “H-Hicc-up?” Escapes her as another wave of tears fill her eyes.

Getting closer Hiccup notices the belts and fear runs through him, is she hurt? Hurrying through the rest of the nails he kneels before her, “Safire, what happened, are you hurt?” He doesn’t get an answer she just stares at him with an unblinking gaze, fear fills him and he grips her arms to shake her as he demands, “Safire, are, you, hurt?”

He sees how her eyes focus on him, her voice is breathless and hoarse as she answers, “no, I’m unharmed.”

Relief floods him, he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

An extra vicious dragon screech breaks through their tentative moment and Hiccup feels more than sees how she freezes at the sound. He knows that reaction, she’s afraid. 

When he was little, when his father still believed in him he was told about dragons, how dangerous they are and how he was going to grow up to kill more than his father, it made him so excited that he would be able to make his father proud, then he had the first of many unfortunate encounters with actual dragons, it was with a flock of terrors. He had never been as scared as he was in that moment, when they were all getting ready to fire at him.

Maybe that’s why he pulls her closer, enveloping her body in his thin arms to give the comfort that he still wishes for every time the dragons get too close. The knowledge that he isn’t alone in his fear. 

She tenses up at the action before seeming to melt as all her fight leaves her and the only thing left is a hurt, sad little girl that clings to him with a desperation that he can’t even begin to comprehend. 

They sit there for the rest of the night, the night fury all but forgotten as he feels the aftershocks rack through her body and his shirt becomes damp from her tears. Long after the raid has ended when the sun starts to peak over the horizon she finally relaxes her death grip on his clothes to sit up straighter, still not letting go fully like she’s afraid he will bolt if she does. Not that he could with her sitting sideways on the floor between his legs.

“‘You better?” He asks no louder than a whisper, she gives a hesitant nod not looking at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her gaze switches to him and she looks almost pleading, “I-” she starts before she takes a ragged breath and more tears fall, “I don’t know if I can.” She admits in a breathless whisper.

Instead of answering Hiccup just guides her back to his already damp shoulder and waits for her tears to dry once more. “Then don’t, but if there’s a chance that it will make you feel better then I will be here to listen. Always.”

She hesitates and holds on tighter for a second to ground herself before releasing him completely, she doesn’t want to outright lie to him, he doesn’t deserve that. But she can’t tell him the truth either, she’s not suicidal. But maybe she can say just a bit, “I- I didn’t realise that- that I drifted so close to the nest.” She starts, and when she looks at him she is met by calm, non-judging, forest green eyes. “I want to help, I have to help, it’s my duty but I can’t, not like this and if I try it will only make it worse. But not even trying, it hurts, it hurts so bad.” The words rush out and by the end she is crying again, just thinking about it is almost too much to bear.

Hiccup on the other hand just sits there and lets her cry, thoughts running through his mind about how familiar her predicament sounds. All his life he has felt exactly the same, wanting so bad to help that the alternative hurts and at the same time having the knowledge that if he were to try it would only be met by hate and disappointment. Only difference is that he hasn’t stopped trying. “Don’t stop trying then, keep going even when everyone hates you for it, because otherwise you’ll never know if the next time is the one when they’ll appreciate it, when you succeed.”

She looks at him with something akin to wonder before reaching towards his face to cup his cheek and wipe under his eye with her thumb, oh he is crying to. Looking him in the eye she gives him a wobbly smile. “Don’t worry, I will never stop Hiccup, I can’t, but if I were to fight here then I may as well give up the war. And I can’t do that either, so I’ll preserver. I’ll sit back-,” her breathing hitches with all the emotions that threaten to come forth once more, “and I’ll watch as the consequences of my actions unfold because that is what I owe, but I will not lose, I refuse to let her sacrifice be in vain because I wasn’t strong enough to face my own actions.” She closes her tear filled eyes and brings their foreheads together in an almost loving gesture but her next words are like steel, “I intend to win, even if it takes me more time than I have.” 


End file.
